Chapter 84: A Visit To Rome

Chapter 84.
A Visit To Rome In Paris—Southward—Nice—Menton—Monaco—At Rome—The Vatican—Spurgeon Preaches in Rome—Lecture at the Tabernacle—Various Opinions.

In November of this year (1871) the overworked preacher left England for the Continent. In France, and especially in its capital, he appears to have ever felt keen interest; and having frequently worshipped with the Baptist congregation which assembled in rooms at the Rue St. Roch or the Rue des Bons Enfans, he was at this time helping to collect funds to provide a more convenient meeting-place. So far as Spurgeon himself was concerned, however, health to do his work was now the chief want; and the most hopeful thing to do was to go quite away into a warmer climate. Although preaching had been resumed, he had not really recovered from his recent illness, and what had been done was done in that condition of weakness which still entails suffering. Otherwise, the work in general appeared to be at the very height of prosperity. At the United Communion of the London Baptist Association at the Tabernacle on the first Tuesday of November between two and three thousand persons were present; and during that same week forty-five persons were received into the church by the pastor. The invalid—for such he really was at this time—went first to Paris, the city being then in the early days of its recovery from the havoc wrought by foreign foes and by false friends—"those admirable friends of liberty, the Communists." On a fine moonlit night he walked about the French capital, and found that the damage done by the Germans was as a fleabite in comparison with what had been done by the French themselves, and this led him to reflect that the worst foes of any nation are found at home. At Lyons the weather was still cold, while the fires provided were of little use. At Marseilles the atmosphere was more genial, and the sight of the Mediterranean was gladdening. What was also reviving was the soft summer-like breeze which came from the bosom of the tideless sea. Even if it were in any sense true that Spurgeon had no eye for art, he had a keen perception for the beauties of nature, and the drive from Marseilles to Nice so charmed him that he could compare it to nothing save a delicious dream. In referring to this after his return he showed what a lasting impression the rare beauties of the sunny South had made upon his mind. There were "rocks on either side of the loveliest colour, like shot-silk, varying ever as you passed between them; peeps ever and anon of the blue sea; olive-gardens everywhere, which made me think more than ever I thought before of Gethsemane and its olive-garden, so famed in sacred history; and orange-groves in full bearing, so that you could hardly see the trees for the oranges." At Nice, where Sunday, November 26, was passed, the climate was much warmer. The preacher's bedroom in this town was small and curious, having a door which opened on to the roof (making him feel, as he confessed, like Peter on the house-top), the Alps being on one side and the sea on the other. By one who so keenly enjoyed the beauties of nature this enviable lodging was properly appreciated. He attended the service of the Free Church, for it was characteristic of Spurgeon when away from home to show a preference for the Presbyterian worship when there was no Baptist chapel. Despite its loveliness, however, Nice had mosquitoes, in whose buzz he said he fancied he could distinguish the familiar nursery jingle, "Fe, fi, fo, fum," etc. On a week day he complied with the wish of the captain of an American ship of war to preach on board, the crew consisting of French, Spaniards, and Lascars, besides English sailors; and a boy who was among them came forward and said he had belonged to the Tabernacle school in London. At Nice the common people seemed to be always washing. "I often wonder what it is the Italian people wash," said the traveller. "It cannot be their own clothes, unless they keep one suit to wash and another to wear. Still, washing they always are; and I have come to the conclusion that where there is a good deal of washing there is very little clean linen; just as where there is a good deal of Pharisaical observance there is very little goodness or true religion." Notwithstanding its many attractions, natural and social, however, Nice had one master drawback: there were so many disinterested friends who themselves wished to hear him preach, while desiring that others should hear him also, that his holiday pastime would soon have become as onerous as work at home; the only thing to do, therefore, was to go forward and get away. In passing through Menton on the way to Genoa, Mr. Spurgeon had not yet any notion that the beautiful sheltered little town on the ancient classic sea would become his chosen winter retreat through many successive years. The view at Monaco was greatly enjoyed; and while on the high road to Genoa the young pastor wished that he could take all his friends along it. "The road is indeed superb," he told his people at the Tabernacle on his return; "it is a succession of rocky corners, picturesque bridges and torrents, orange, olive and palm-trees, fields where maize, Indian corn, and all manner of semi-tropical produce had been reaped; the air was balmy and the prospect indescribable." Genoa itself did not appear to him so striking a place as had been represented; but he learned there that it took three Christians to be equal to one Jew in cheating. He also passed through Pisa, and was less impressed by the Leaning Tower than by a fine baptistery, which he declared could no more have been intended for only infants to be baptised in than the Mont Cenis Tunnel for a fly to buzz through. The capital was reached at last, and what Mr. Spurgeon had to say about the city and its people a few months after United Italy had become an accomplished fact may be given more at length:— "I went to Borne to escape the rigours of the climate, and found bed the only warm place; while in the morning there was snow, the first, it was said, that had fallen for five years. Let a man say what he will, a thrill must pass through his soul at the thought of being in Rome that he would not experience anywhere else, except, perhaps, Jerusalem.

"I have not a grain of superstition about me, and if I had I would try to get rid of it this very night; but, at the same time, there are associations clustering around the Eternal City that must be felt by any man who has a soul at all. The Arch of Titus is a memorable thing to stand and look upon. The relief shows Titus returning from the war of Jerusalem with the golden candlesticks and trumpets, and while these things stand there it is idle for infidels to say the Book is not true. There is the plain history written in stone; and the more such discoveries are made, the more will the truth of the grand old Book be confirmed. As for the Colosseum, the Metropolitan Tabernacle would have to grow for a thousand years before it would reach its size. St. Peter's is a church indeed. Looked at from the outside, the dome seemed squat, and it has nothing of the glory of our own St. Paul's. But it is a thing that grows upon you; it is so huge and enormous that it fills the soul with awe; you have to grow big yourselves if you would appreciate it and its excellent proportions. What shocked me was to see the statue of St. Peter there. Some people say it is the statue of Jupiter; and to that some wag has replied, 'If it is not Jupiter, it is the Jew Peter, so it does not matter.' The amazing thing is to see the people kissing the toes of the statue. You laugh, but it is actually done. I saw gentlemen wiping the toes with their handkerchiefs and kissing it, old women being helped up to do the same, and little children lifted up to follow the example. There also is the chair in which Peter never sat, and people bowing down to pay homage to it. It is, in truth, a big joss-house; an idol shop, and nothing better. It is not the worst image-house in Rome, but it is bad enough; and whatever may be said by those who turn to and profess the Roman Catholic faith, if they are not idolaters there are no idolaters on earth. I went to the Vatican, where the Pope has lived in seclusion since September twelvemonth, and perhaps it is as well he keeps indoors. It is very curious to see one of Victor Emmanuel's soldiers at the bottom of the steps and a handsomely dressed Papal soldier half a dozen steps higher up. All Italy belongs now to a free people, except that one solitary house in which the Pope lives, and I hope nobody will envy him that. Those two soldiers mark the difference. The ensign of liberty was typified in Victor Emmanuel's soldier and the cruellest of despotisms in the other. I should say the worst conceivable under which mortals ever suffered is the government of the Pope; and it is quite time that the trumpet of the Italian king should be heard ringing round the Vatican. I only hope the liberty which has come to Italy will last; but I have my doubts about it, for it is a political liberty, and not the outgrowth of religion."

It would appear that the natural beauties of the road from Menton to Genoa pleased the young pastor better than the chefs-d'œuvre of the Great Masters; for in walking through the galleries of the Vatican the copies which students were making of works of Raphael and Michael Angelo pleased him "almost as well as the dim originals." Many other tourists have, no doubt, had similar sentiments without having courage to express them with the same ingenuousness. Of course, he had no liking for relics at all, and the plain things he said about them would have shocked their more superstitious admirers. He then referred to some other things in Rome, of the kind which turned Luther into a Protestant. Of the monks he said:—

"What an uncommonly queer way these monks have of spending their lives! Some of them at the time of my visit were making a most awful noise. I thought I should like to have been their superior. I would have prescribed one penance—wash, wash, wash. In a dungeon where Paul and Peter were said to have been confined they showed me what is supposed to be the impression of Peter's face when pushed violently against the wall by the gaoler. It is a curious thing, however, that while the marks of Peter's feet in another place outside of Rome are those of a man at least twelve feet high, the imprint of his nose and features in the dungeon is that of a man no bigger than myself. It wants, in fact, much faith and little sense to swallow many of the pretty stories told one in Rome." In Rome were found two Baptist evangelists—Messrs. Wall and Cote—who had stations for preaching; and the opposition of the priests only had the effect of aiding the work, because the priests were not trusted. Spurgeon gave two discourses in Rome, one in the church of the Free Church of Scotland, of which Dr. Lewis was pastor, and the other in Mr. Wall's meeting-house hard by, and not far from the Forum of Trajan, Mr. Wall on this occasion acting as interpreter. Father Gavazzi asked for this sermon to be given in the Italian Protestant Church in Piazza Trajana; but for such a speaker to have to be dependent on an interpreter was dull work. "Two preachers were to be heard preaching one sermon," wrote the correspondent of a London daily paper; "a strange medley, for the Italian spoke little English, and the Englishman no Italian; and between them both the audience was confounded and the sermon a failure." Another daily paper may have startled its readers by giving out that two priests in civil costume had confronted Spurgeon and challenged some of his assertions, but that he declined to have anything to say to them except in public. The fact was that a certain priest had illegally interrupted the evening service by asking some questions, but he got no satisfaction for his pains. The addresses in Rome were given on Sunday, December 10, and, writing on the 13th of the month, the correspondent of The Daily Telegraph gave a special account of what had taken place:—

"The greatest—nay, the sole—event of importance which has occurred in Rome during the last few days is the arrival of Mr. Spurgeon, and his intended sojourn here till the 15th instant. Mr. Spurgeon in Rome! How strange do those words sound! The enemy of monks and nuns, the denouncer of idolatry and Mariolatry, the foremost among Dissenters in the greatest Dissenting country on the face of the earth, has arrived in the city of Pius IX.—the city, I should rather say, which once belonged to Pius IX.—and preached a sermon against Popery within a trumpet's call of the Vatican; for the Pope's residence is too far from the Piazza del Popolo to admit of my talking about 'a stone's throw,' as I was prompted to do—unless, indeed, the stone were hurled from a sling, and the 'throw' were the action of a new David armed to do battle with a new Goliath. Did I choose to be allegorical, I might insinuate that the sermon was a moral stone cast at the successor of St. Peter; but I will not call Mr. Spurgeon by anyone else's name, nor term his discourse anything but a sermon. Although Mr. Spurgeon has in a material sense of the words 'gone over to Rome,' in the spirit he has been as far away as ever—nay, further than before—for, like Luther, he has seen the Papal city with his bodily eyes, and hates the religion against which he protests all the more bitterly for having done so. He described Rome, in one of the most eloquent sermons he ever preached, as an 'idolatrous city,' and he warned his hearers against idolatry in terms as startling as they were persuasive, with a look and gesture worthy of a really great actor, which he undoubtedly is." Being present at the service the same correspondent gave a graphic and brilliant description of the scene inside Dr. Lewis's church:—

"The sermon of Sunday morning was delivered in the Presbyterian Church, outside the Porta del Popolo, the regular minister of which is Dr. Lewis—not the Established Scotch Church, inside the walls of which the minister is Mr. Paton. The audience was very large, the interest—both of old and young—intense, the oration a perfect triumph. Of the text I say nothing, for many reasons, one of which is that I have forgotten it. Yes, I am ashamed to confess it. I paid so much attention to the discourse that I forgot, and cannot now call to mind, the words with which it began, albeit those words were sacred. But the text and the discourse had, I know, little to do with each other; the former was the apology for the latter, not the groundwork on which it was built up; and while the one made us thoughtful, the other made us alternately sad and merry—brought tears into our eyes and laughter to our lips, and made us forget at times, though not for long, in whose house we were, and whose cause the speaker was pleading before us. Perhaps the word 'laughter' may appear too shocking; let me, then, say that some of Mr. Spurgeon's remarks caused smiling—loud smiling; but do not forget the real merits of the man—his earnestness and pathos, his fine voice, and his great command over the English language. Perhaps the boldest thing Mr. Spurgeon ever said was said in his running comments before the sermon while reading a chapter of Scripture. Somehow or other he introduced Rome and Roman affairs into his discourse, and raising his hands and eyes at the same time—the hands clasped, the eyes turned up to the ceiling—he broke out, without warning or preparation of any kind, in the following terms: 'O Victor Emmanuel! O Emmanuel of Heaven, thou true Victor! Help the Italians, bless and sanctify their cause, and make them prosperous.' I do not think the cry of 'Fire!' or 'Stop thief!' uttered in the middle of the sermon would have caused more sensation than this prayer did. Some of the congregation looked frightened, some indignant, some painfully amused. A few old ladies seemed as if they would rush out of the church; but, being too far from the door, kept their seats. Others appeared bewildered, hardly knowing whether to laugh or to cry, and quite beside themselves. Others again—and they formed the greater part of the congregation, both as regards men and women—sat, as it were, spell-bound and devout-looking, wondering what would come next, prepared apparently for any change, no matter how violent, from grave to gay, from passion to grim humour. The change came and came adroitly—came before it was possible to laugh or to feel really angry; and tears, worked up from the depths of the heart, came to the eyes of those who a moment before cast looks of reproach and misgiving at this singular preacher. 'Is this man an actor or a servant of God?' asked a pious-looking lady of her husband as they left the church together. 'Can't say,' answered the gentleman, putting on his hat; 'perhaps a little of both.' That is just what I felt, and I am convinced that many members of the congregation felt and thought in the same way by the time the sermon was over." This keen observer, who as an English journalist on the lookout for something good to send to London appears to have been one of the most attentive auditors at the memorable service, had something else to say concerning the preacher's characteristics:—

"Like most of Mr. Spurgeon's sermons the discourse of Sunday abounded in anecdotes, all happily chosen, all pointed and well told, some of them pathetic, others exceedingly funny. The story of the 'Monk and the Convent Bell' was very effective, although a little hackneyed. Who has not read in his childhood of the good friar, praying in his cell before the Vision of Our Saviour, who, at the very moment the Vision was on the verge of speaking, was called away to give bread to the poor? If anyone has forgotten the legend, let him read Miss Christina Rossetti's poem on the subject, and he will find how, when the monk returned to his cell, fearing he had done wrong in going away, the Vision addressed him in these or similar terms: 'Be not afraid, thou faithful servant; thou hast done well and not ill. Hadst thou forgotten the poor, I had forgotten thee; hadst thou tarried with me, I had departed.' Mr. Spurgeon's story of the young preacher who broke down in his prayer caused some of the 'loud smiling' to which I have already referred. It was the case of a tyro in preaching, who meant well, but could not say much, partly in consequence of shyness, partly of incapacity. 'I like that young man,' said Mr. Spurgeon, 'and I like him because he broke down. Oh, what a good thing it would be if some ministers of our acquaintance would only break down when they are in the midst of a long prayer!' The shortest prayer noticed was that of a man who would make no prayer at all. It was a soldier on the morning of a battle. Before girding on his sword to fight in a righteous cause, he looked towards the table where his Bible lay and then towards heaven. 'Gracious Lord!' he exclaimed, 'to-day will be a busy day, and I fear I shall have no time to say my prayers; but if I forget Thee, do not Thou forget me!'"

There was a collection after the sermon, and the preacher called on those present to do their best in helping on the work of the Lord in the "idolatrous city" in which they resided. The accounts given in the newspapers of this visit to Rome so far stimulated public interest that when Mr. Spurgeon gave an account of his travels at the Tabernacle on Tuesday, January 2, with dissolving views from pictures that were sent home for the purpose, the crowd attracted was quite beyond anything that had been expected. "The building was crowded in all parts, many being compelled, as on Sundays, to stand in the aisles, while not a few were unable to gain admittance," says one contemporary account. "This led to some unpleasant altercations outside, some protesting that they had paid ten shillings for their ticket, and insisting upon gaining admittance, room or no room." In reply, those in charge could only say that the lecture would be repeated. It was well for the lecturer himself that he could retain his self-possession under such conditions. In vain did he wish to hold a meeting of his own people and a few outside friends who were like-minded. Spurgeon abroad and Spurgeon at home had become too popular a subject not to be eagerly appropriated by those journalists who wanted materials for sensational writing:—

"Here we are again! The genuine original comic Christmas entertainment for this night only at the Tabernacle, Newington! The Rev. C. H. Spurgeon will undertake, as usual, the part of harlequin, while the Pope of Rome will do involuntary duty as pantaloon. Managers of other transpontine houses may thank themselves that this formidable competitor appears only for one or, at most, two nights. We should fear that the best pantomime in London would fail dismally if it depended only upon speech and action unaided by one or more gorgeous transformation scenes. But although Mr. Spurgeon promised to illustrate his lecture by dissolving views, the interest of the lecture was so absorbing that the audience would probably not have missed the illustrations if they had been forgotten by the lecturer. They desired to see Mr. Spurgeon and hear him talk. He has been on a holiday trip to Rome, and he was certain to crack some of his most racy jokes over the superstitious practices which he witnessed there.... It is curious that a feature of Continental churches which we have always thought particularly disagreeable should be produced with improvements at the Tabernacle. Many readers have, doubtless, witnessed the noonday performance of the Strasburg clock, and may remember the keen, businesslike manner of the verger who lets chairs for halfpence to visitors who desire to secure good places for the spectacle without the fatigue of standing. Just try to help yourself to a chair and see how quickly the verger will discover and pursue you. This we had thought a tolerably strong example of the practice which the text condemns, because the performance of the clock cannot be considered as a religious service, although the Twelve Apostles take part in it; but it is nothing compared to the banquet of tea and cake and the lectures and dissolving views at the great annual festival conducted by Mr. Spurgeon."

Among the high-class weeklies, perhaps The Spectator was as generous as any in its general estimate of the preacher and lecturer. It was said that the pastor of the Tabernacle had "a good deal of nature" in his general make up. Then, as his lecture seemed to show, the Bible and his faith in it was his chief passport to the favour of the southern peoples. He was also a man of genius and moral worth. "He is not only a very clever and homely preacher who makes his people realise the wrong and the right in every day's moral alternatives, with a vigour and freshness such as few of his class manage to obtain, but he is in himself a very interesting type to study, because he reproduces the ideas of a very large class of English folk with the cleverness and emphasis of a strong nature quite devoid of shyness and reserve." By way of contrast to such amenities, we might take the example of a reader of John Bull, a clergyman of the West of England, who was exceedingly angry at seeing a report of Spurgeon's lecture in that journal. What "wicked uncharitableness towards the Church of Rome" was shown by that "ignorant man," the "mountebank of the Tabernacle," whose "disgusting buffoonery" and "vulgar ravings" were, of course, highly objectionable! The lecture was repeated on January 22, when an explanation was given to the effect that it had never been intended for the general public; it was a talk about a pleasant tour, intended for friends, without previous preparation. While mentioning his recent illness, Mr. Spurgeon advised that ministers should rest. He had worked for six years without taking such rest as was needed, and he found his physical strength seriously weakened. "No one living knows the toil and care I have to bear," he said. "I ask for no sympathy, but ask indulgence if I sometimes forget something. I have to look after the Orphanage, have charge of a church with four thousand members; sometimes there are marriages and burials to be undertaken; there is the weekly sermon to be revised, The Sword and the Trowel to be edited; and, besides all that, a weekly average of five hundred letters to be answered. This, however, is only half my duty; for there are innumerable churches established by friends with the affairs of which I am closely connected, to say nothing of those cases of difficulty which are constantly being referred to me." The visit to Rome had been a genuine pleasure trip; the rest had helped to re-establish health, while the preacher's knowledge had been extended by an excursion into new fields. Of all the striking things he had seen in the territory of the ancient world, nothing seems to have afforded greater satisfaction than what he saw in the Catacombs. One carving was a representation of John baptising our Lord by immersion. Then he had seen in the Catacombs "a genuine baptistery." This was "the very facsimile of the one we have in the Tabernacle, showing, from its absence of Popish symbols, that it was a relic of the old Church, the Church of which we are members, which is older than Catholicism or Protestantism—the ancient Apostolic Church of the Lord Jesus Christ." On February 22 he preached at the East London Tabernacle, when three thousand were present. That was a joyful occasion for Spurgeon as well as for the pastor, Mr. Brown; for what had been achieved in East London in connection with this church was a wonderful example of the aggressive work of the College. Even the text announced on this occasion sounded a jubilant note: "The right hand of the Lord is exalted: the right hand of the Lord doeth valiantly" (Psa 118:16).

Mr. Spurgeon showed that wherever the Gospel was faithfully preached, there would the words of Christ be verified: "I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me." Reference was made to the brave days of old, when the Church of England was asleep in the dark, when Dissenters were slumbering in the light, and when Wesley and Whitefield were raised up to preach the Gospel until the whole land was filled with the glory of Christ.

Mr. Dransfield, a venerable elder at the Tabernacle, died about this time. On Sunday, March 10, James Wells, the great Strict Baptist preacher of the Surrey Tabernacle, also passed away. He had attained to the age of sixty-nine, and had been in the ministry over forty years. Born of humble parents, he received little or no school education; but when he began to preach in an obscure corner of Southwark his devotion and genius soon won for him a foremost place; and when at length the Surrey Tabernacle was erected, his congregation of two thousand persons was drawn from many distant suburbs, who accounted the opportunity of hearing their favourite preacher to be one of the chief privileges of life. Spurgeon and Wells had much in common; but their differences on certain theological points seem to have prevented their being very cordial friends. Notwithstanding this, however, the men had an admiration for each other which at times would find expression. Thus, when Wells lay in his last illness, Spurgeon sent him the following remarkable letter:—

"Clapham, March 11, 1871.

"My Dear Friend,—I must apologise for intruding upon your sick chamber, and must beg you not to be troubled by it; but I am very anxious to know how you are, and shall be very grateful if some friend will inform me. I had hoped that your sickness was but a temporary affliction and would soon pass away, but now I hear conflicting rumours.

"I assure you of my deep sympathy in your protracted confinement from the labour which is so dear to your heart. Only to be kept out of the pulpit is a bitter sorrow, even could the bed be one of entire rest. I fear, however, that you are enduring days and nights of languishing; and I pray the Lord, the tender lover of our souls, to lay under you His supporting arms. He comforts omnipotently, and no griefs liuger when He bids them fly. He breaks us. down, and while we lie prostrate He makes us glad to have it so, because His will is done.

"You, who have so long been a father in the Gospel, are no novice in the endurance of trial, and I trust that you will be enabled to play the man as thoroughly in lonely suffering as in public service. Immutable purposes and infinite love have been themes of your constant ministry to others. May the Holy Ghost make these mighty floods of consolation to roll in upon your own soul, till all things else are swallowed up in your heart's holy joy! Personally I own my great obligations to the furnace and the hammer; and I am sure that you also rejoice in the assurance that tribulation worketh patience, and brings, through the supply of the Spirit, a long train of blessings with it. May you be delivered from all excessive care as to your church and your work—the Lord's work is safe in the Lord's hands. Happy is it for us when we can feel it to be so. May your sick chamber be the very gate of heaven to your soul, the presence of the Lord filling the house with glory.

"Do not think of acknowledging this; but if you are able to have it read to you I hope someone will be so good as briefly to tell me how you are.—With most sincere respects, yours truly, "C. H. Spurgeon."

Concerning Spurgeon and this letter Mr. T. W. Medhurst remarks in a private letter:—

"So far as my knowledge goes, I do not think that he and James Wells ever met. C. H. S. always entertained the kindliest and most brotherly regard for James Wells, and esteemed him as an able preacher of the truth, though he had no sympathy with him in his extreme Calvinistic, or, rather, ultra-Calvinistic, teaching—viz., 'that to believe savingly on the Lord Jesus Christ was not the duty of all men.' Not only did he send a most characteristic letter to Mr. Wells during his long illness, but he also followed him to the grave, though not as an invited mourner. James Wells, on one occasion, said to me, 'I love Mr. Spurgeon, but I do not believe in his duty-faithism.' On another occasion Mr. Wells said: 'Mr. Spurgeon is a duty-faith man, and although he does not, in any of his printed sermons that I have seen, in so many words, declare it to be the duty of all men savingly to believe in Christ, yet he clearly holds the doctrine.'

"This was the one point of Mr. Wells's antagonism."

Mr. Spurgeon preached for the first time after his return from the Continent on Christmas-Eve; and his health being much improved by the rest and change, he worked on through the first quarter of 1872 with pleasure to himself, his strength seeming to be renewed. He was in excellent spirits because the work of the College more especially was so far prospering that during this quarter the President preached at the opening of new chapels for former students, at Chalk Farm, Enfield Highway, and Burdett Road, this last, as regards size, ranking next to the Metropolitan Tabernacle. In addressing the colporteurs and their friends at the Tabernacle on Tuesday, April 9, he took an opportunity of giving his sentiments concerning the case of the agricultural labourers, which was then prominently before the public:—

"It often happens that the clergyman in a country district knows as much about the Gospel as a ploughman does about medicine. If people heard him for as many years as Methusaleh lived, they would not know much about Christ. They would not be going in the way of salvation, because the guide is blind, and it would be simply the blind leading the blind. If a poor man goes to a Dissenting place of worship, probably he gels mentioned to the squire or his employer, and he is told that he must not do anything of the sort. The condition of our agricultural labourers is most shameful, and I have not rejoiced in anything since I was born so much as when I heard that they had begun to stir and to strike. I wonder they have not struck long ago, when there were such cases as men having to expend the whole of their week's wages in bread for their families."

Mr. Spurgeon mentioned this subject of the labourers and their grievances to me in the study at Helensburgh House; and, whether in public or private, it was easy to see how heartily he sympathised with them, although he had no desire to harbour harsh opinions respecting either the landowners or the clergy. The Tabernacle does not appear to have been frequently used for marriages; but soon after the date at which we have now arrived, Mr. Spurgeon officiated at the wedding of his third sister, who was united to Mr. T. C. Page, a solicitor of Newington. Eph 5:25-33 was expounded, "not for the especial benefit of the young people, but lest any of the older married people in the congregation should have forgotten their duty."